


Beloved: The Return

by LadyRazorsharp



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Sex, Alpha/Omega, Mpreg, Other, Space Opera, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 05:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRazorsharp/pseuds/LadyRazorsharp
Summary: Gordon Tracy, marine biologist and ships cook, is taken by the alien lifeform known as "Jonathan" for a life mate. Sending his younger brother Alan out of danger, Gordon adjusts to life on an alien world while Alan deals with survivor's guilt.





	1. Report

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meikahidenori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meikahidenori/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Beloved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710490) by [meikahidenori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meikahidenori/pseuds/meikahidenori). 



AN: This is a gift for Lexibirds and Meikahinedori, who wrote an incredible epic that I just had to have more of. I sincerely hope this does your original work justice.

  
Beloved: The Return

One: The Report

  
Alan awoke with a start just as all the air was forced out of his lungs by a heavy weight on top of his chest.  A rough hand slapped his stubbled cheek, and his eyes snapped open to see a familiar face looming above his.

“ _ You murdered him, _ Allie,” snarled Virgil, his knees straddling Alan’s narrow chest, amber eyes sparking with rage. “You  _ coward _ , you left him there to die just so you could save your own sorry hide.”

“How  _ could _ you, Al?” moaned Scott, and Alan shifted his head to shoot a pleading glance at his eldest brother over Virgil’s shoulder. Scott’s eyes, normally as bright a blue as his own, were pools of indigo where they weren’t bloodshot from weeping.  “He’s your _ brother! _ How could you just leave him there with that monster?”

“He told me to!” Alan wheezed. “He told me I had to go and get you two home, and I swore that I would come back for him!”

Virgil’s laugh was a hollow, mirthless sound. “And you think there’s gonna be anything left to find? That thing has ripped him apart. You’ll be lucky to find a smear on the wall with Gordon’s DNA in it.”

“I know,” Alan sobbed. “I’m _ sorry _ . I didn’t  _ want  _ to--”

“ _ Then why DID you? _ ” Virgil roared, seizing Alan’s shirt in his hands and slamming him against the cold floor. “Selfish, cold hearted,  _ coward! _ ”

“P-please, Virg,” Alan begged through the darkness crawling over the edges of his vision. “Scotty, please, make him stop, I can’t go back if you kill me!”

“There won’t be anything to find, Al,” Scott murmured, tears tumbling down his face. “So it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Virgil’s eyes were chips of smoky quartz in his stony face, and Alan choked as the big man’s thumbs dug into his larynx. “Lights out, Allie,” Virgil growled. “Say hello to Gordy for us.”

“Although,” added Scott as awareness dwindled, “you might not see him where you’re going,  _ coward _ .”

His brothers’ voices faded into the smothering, crushing blackness.

***

Alan awoke with a gasp, drawing precious, oxygen-rich air into his lungs, his limbs locked and rigid, his hands clawing against a pair of hands that were not there.  For a moment, he wondered how his bruised and broken larynx could even allow air to pass through--then he felt his neck, fingers encountering nothing but unblemished skin.

He lay alone, soaking wet, stomach roiling and head spinning.  Nothing. No Virgil, no Scott.

No Gordon.

Alan rolled over, yanked the small waste receptacle out from under his bunk, and heaved what little there was in his stomach into it. When he was empty, he rode the dry heaves as he had so many times in the last six months, knowing that they would eventually stop--not, however, before he felt like he would twist inside out, as if his body was trying to physically rid itself of guilt and shame.

When the spasms had finally passed, Alan groggily sat up with elbows on knees, resting his pounding head in his hands.  One more day, he told himself. One more day farther away from Gordon, but one more day closer to those who could help get him back.

Normally, Alan didn’t dwell on the eldritch horror that had snatched his brother onboard the research vessel, but sometimes the memories pushed to the surface as they did now.  The creature--oddly answering to the human moniker of ‘Jonathan’--was tall and slender, with raptor-like legs built for agility and speed. It had human-like arms with clawed fingers, and a long, scaly tail it used for balance as well as a weapon. Its face was also humanoid in appearance, except it had rows of sharp teeth resembling those of a shark--Alan pushed back the thought of those teeth efficiently tearing chunks of Gordon’s flesh--and its ears were much larger and situated more toward the top of its head, like a cat’s. It had platinum blond hair that covered its scalp and curled down the nape of its neck, and high cheekbones that gave the face a delicate, almost feminine beauty.  Its eyes, however, were pools of inky black, no iris or white, and it seemed to Alan that they would dance with color depending on the creature’s mood. The translucent skin, covered in lilac slime, showed its colorful organs and often rippled with bioluminescent colors.

What was most disturbing about the creature were the myriad of tentacles that grew from a specialized patch of skin on the creature’s spine.  Alan had seen those tentacles ravage his brother’s body until Gordon was a limp rag of flesh, suspended in mid-air and dripping fluids from every orifice.  Alan’s breath still caught in his chest as he recalled one of those tentacles thrust deep into Gordon’s throat, pumping what Alan guessed was some sort of tranquilizer into him to keep him pliant.

At least one tentacle was specialized to shoot a liquid that, when exposed to air, turned into a strong, yet flexible webbing, like a spider would use to hold its prey fast to its web. Alan himself had been hung like a side of beef in Gordon’s quarters, waking up to find his mouth taped shut with the stuff, watching as Gordon lolled unconscious against his own webbed prison across the room.

Alan had managed to free first himself, then Gordon, but he’d nearly dropped his brother when he saw the pulsing rainbow of lights under Gordon’s skin where ‘Jonathan’ had apparently laid a clutch of eggs.  He had to get them both out of there; everyone else was dead, but the escape pods were well-supplied for the five-day journey to the nearest outpost, and surely they’d be able to help--

And then Gordon had told him to go. “You have to,” Gordon had gasped, his words slurred by his swollen throat and tongue. “Get out of here, take Scott and Virgil back to Earth, and then come back. It’ll be safer.”

The research vessel had left Scott and Virgil at the mid-point colony nearly two years ago. Accompanied by Brains, their engineer, they had all blasted off from Earth almost five years ago, and Alan felt a smile ghost across his face. They were all so eager then, he remembered, all thrilled at the chance to explore the stars like their father, all wanting to follow in his footsteps.  They were all together, having decided that if one went, they would all go, refusing to leave each other behind, sharing in this grand adventure together.

“Some adventure,” Alan muttered aloud, rubbing his hands over his face.

The notification center on the wall began to chime, alerting him that it was time to get his day started.  With a heavy sigh, Alan cinched the bag on the waste receptacle and tossed it into the disposal unit, then made sure there was another bag ready to go for tomorrow’s session.  He crossed the room and entered the small bathroom, staring at his reflection in the polished steel ‘mirror’ as he relieved himself. He was only twenty-five years old, but the face that stared back at him reminded him of his father. Maybe that was due to the eyes, Alan thought, shedding his arming suit and turning away to step into the shower. Though they were still the bright blue they’d been when he was twenty, now they were eyes that had seen too much, eyes that had been flooded time and again with tears shed for lost friends and family.

After his shower, Alan dressed in a clean arming suit and placed his sweat-soaked suit from the night before into the cleaning receptacle, where it would be fresh and ready for him to exchange for the one he currently wore. The dark grey cloth would instantly bond to the inside of his form-fitting blue space uniform, should he need to put it on, and provide a neural linkup to all the necessary readouts and functions of the uniform and its helmet. For now, the skin tight fabric was a welcome source of warmth against the chill of the ship, even though the vessel was a considerable step up from the tiny escape pod he’d used when he’d left--

Alan shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside as he did every day. “Focus, Tracy,” he muttered, positioning himself in front of the holographic recorder/viewer.  He reached up and switched it on, making sure it had a clear capture of his face and body. “Begin recording,” he said, and the machine beeped softly to let him know that the capture was rolling.

“Good morning,” he began. “This is Commander Alan Tracy, aboard Deep Space Transport Vessel 65-15, en route from Outpost G to Space Colony Eden.  My originating point was Abbadon Six-Four, five months, two weeks, and six days ago. I estimate that I’ll be at Eden in one week and four days.” He felt a smile creep onto his face. “At this rate, this transmission and I will probably arrive at about the same time. Looking forward to seeing everyone.”  

He sighed, knowing his face was once again sliding into its usual worried expression. “I’m still concerned about Gord--uh, Dr. Gordon Tracy, who as you no doubt recall was aboard our expedition as a marine biology consultant, as well as our ship’s cook.” Alan allowed himself a small chuckle. “He could-- _ can _ do things with space rations you wouldn’t believe.” The smile faded as he continued to speak. “I have to believe that the creature known as ‘Jonathan’ found him too valuable to kill outright.  My only hope is that when I return-- _ and I will, _ as I promised--he will still be alive. I know that the Committee may think this a fool’s errand, but I also have reason to believe that the cr-- _ Jonathan _ has enough sentience to understand, and can possibly shed light on why Gordon was ch-chosen--” Alan shut his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.  “Chosen to bear the creature’s offspring. I know it’s a slim hope, but I just pray that Gordon-- _ my brother _ \--has survived the ordeal.”  He shrugged, shoulders slumping. “I  _ have _ to believe that, otherwise there’s nothing stopping me from just collecting what’s left of my family and going back to Earth.” Alan wet his dry lips with his tongue, and willed the tears back for his next words. “My dad wouldn’t have given up on Gordon, so neither will I. See you in a week. End recording.”


	2. Homeworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon and Jonathan attempt to make a home together despite their differences.

Two: Homeworld

The skies above Abbadon Six-Four were nearly always clotted with thick, grey clouds, but sometimes the clear violet of the sky was visible, and at night, the stars beyond. From the stone steps of his home, Dr. Gordon Tracy, one-time marine biologist, ship’s cook, and the third of four Earthling brothers, surveyed the small patch of stars and let out a long sigh.

A small creature crouched on raptor-like legs beside him, and at the sound it raised its blue-furred head, cat-like ears twitching and bright orange eyes sparkling in the starlight. “Why sigh, Mother?” The creature got to its feet and scurried up into the muscular arms that held it close. “Sad?”

Gordon smiled down at the creature. “A little,” he admitted. “You have all your siblings around you. Mine are far away.”

The creature cocked its head, scaly snout twitching. “Not all,” it reminded him. “Some sick. Some hurt. Some go sleep in ground.”

“I know.” Gordon scritched the reptile-kitten at the base of its tail, smiling as it purred loudly. “That happens, sweetheart. Sometimes we can’t help that.”

“Sweetheart will grow strong,” the kitten assured him, flashing all three sets of its pointed teeth. “Sweetheart never get sick. Sweetheart will not be hurt, and not go sleep. Sweetheart will protect Mother.”

Gordon chuckled; even at its young age, the kitten was already a formidable opponent, keeping the older kittens away as they came of age and went into heat. The protective youngling had taken it upon itself to reinforce the law that their sire had laid down: Gordon-- _ Mother _ \--was his, and no one else’s. A shudder ran through Gordon’s body, rippling the reddish fur on his neck and shoulders as he recalled the force with which Jonathan would claim his rights as alpha, mating with him for hours and milking Gordon for the semen that not only altered the alien’s consciousness, but his physiology as well.

With time and repeated contact, they had both begun to change; besides growing the shaggy mane, Gordon’s skin had paled and thinned, while Jonathan’s had thickened and darkened until they were both about the same color. Gordon still recalled his surprise when one day he’d looked up into Jonathan’s eyes and seen not just expanses of black, but gleaming turquoise irises looking back at him. When the alien was hunting or mating, however, the eyes would shift back to the swirling pools of color Gordon was familiar with, but so far, none of the younglings had displayed the ability to shift in that manner.

The kitten’s rumbling purr tickled along Gordon’s side, and he cuddled it close. Not all of their offspring was so attached, but every so often, one of the brood would stay near, perhaps sensing that their strange brood-bearer needed extra protection. The broods were smaller now, and farther apart, though a wry smile quirked one corner of Gordon’s mouth; it was not for lack of trying on Jonathan’s part. If the creature had his way, Gordon would be filled to bursting with the critters, constantly ‘barefoot and pregnant’ as he’d teased Jonathan once, although Jonathan hadn’t quite understood the joke. He’d managed to convince Jonathan that such a rigorous repopulating of the planet would wear his body out, and he’d seen the moment that idea clicked in the alien’s brain.

“Wear out...body no good?” Jonathan had queried, a frown between his delicate arched brows.

“Right,” Gordon confirmed. “I know you give me all you can--you keep me going with that syrup of yours,” he said softly, touching the end of the specialized tentacle meant to inject a broodmate with liquid nutrition during a prolonged mating session. “My body is still so different from yours. It needs rest.”  He smiled, running his knuckles along Jonathan’s cheek. “Even human females can’t keep breeding; it makes them sick. A long time ago, even a single breeding meant that they could die.”

Jonathan’s eyes had shifted from turquoise to indigo at that. “Die,” he echoed. “What is ‘die’?”

Gordon held the clawed hand to his chest. “Feel that?” He breathed in and out. “Air stops. Heart stops. Brain stops.” Tears sprang to his eyes. “Go to sleep, and never wake again.”

“ _ No _ ,” Jonathan growled fiercely, clutching Gordon to his chest. “ _ Gordon not die _ . Not  _ ever. _ ”

Gordon clung to the creature that had claimed him, tears rolling down his face. “Not now,” he murmured. “Not for a long time.” He pulled back, holding Jonathan’s chin in his hand and forcing the alien eyes to gaze into his own. “If you keep me  _ safe _ . If you’re  _ gentle _ . Not so many broods. This will help me not die. Understand?”

“Understand,” Jonathan replied, then smiled shyly. “Hard to do. Gordon smell so good.” He brushed the human’s currently flat abdomen. “Gordon good mother.” He curled slick tentacles around his human, holding him close. “Gordon  _ beloved _ .”

“Yes,” Gordon whispered, leaning forward to kiss the mouth that was both capable of tearing him apart as well as loving him into a state of quivering ecstasy. “ _ Jonathan  _ beloved.”

And so they had been content to remain these past six months--at least, Gordon was fairly certain it was six months, his calculations could be off--the oddest of odd couples, cross-species lovers and progenitors, birthing their broods and sending them out to seek their fortunes. Some stayed close to work the seeds Gordon had brought into the rich soil and raise the food that both they and their human breeder enjoyed, or to hunt the deer-like creatures in the forest that surrounded their clearing. Some of the older offspring had begun to mate with each other as their time came, and while Gordon was worried about their DNA clashing, so far it appeared that the creatures had adapted enough to be more like distant cousins rather than siblings.

The kitten snored in Gordon’s arms, and he rocked it gently, humming a tune he recalled his mother singing to him as a child. He moved to the low wall around the stone structure he and Jonathan had built to shelter in as they mated and Gordon birthed, and sat surveying his small corner of the universe. The breeze rippled the shaggy mane on his neck where it sprouted through the collar of the mechanic’s jumpsuit he wore. The clothing was becoming less of a necessity against the cool atmosphere, as Gordon found he was adjusting, but it was a signal to Jonathan: Clothes on meant mating needed to wait. Clothes off meant mating could proceed, but gently.

“What am I going to do, little one,” he asked softly, as the creature sleepily wrapped a tentacle around its mother’s arm. “What will I do when my brother comes for me and wants me to leave this place?”

“ _ Gordon not leave _ ,” growled a voice behind him, its tones edging out of the human range it had gained and slipping back into the echoing, otherworldly syllables of its natural state. “Not time yet. Alan not here yet.”

Gordon glanced over his shoulder to see Jonathan standing in the doorway.  At the scent of its sire, the kitten roused and stretched, then dropped from its mother to scamper over the grassy yard and up the imposing frame. Jonathan leaned his head to the side, rubbing his face and tentacles against his offspring’s snout, clicking and whirring to it as it cheeped and chirped happily.

“Good Sweetheart,” Jonathan purred. “Go play with brood. Soon, time for you to go.”

The creature shook its head. “No go,” it insisted. “Sweetheart  _ stay _ .”

Jonathan plucked the kitten from his shoulder with a grasping tentacle, holding it gently even as it nipped him. “Not go now, but soon.” He lowered it to the ground and gave it a shove. “Time for play, learn from Stalker and Hunter.”

“Stalker and Hunter mean,” Sweetheart pouted. “Step on tail. Make Sweetheart cry.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. Contact with his human DNA had been both a blessing and a curse, as his structure was both just close enough and just far away enough from Jonathan’s to ensure the alien wasn’t the last of his kind. However, it had brought on human emotions that flavored the raw drive to hunt and mate, and some of the kittens were beginning to remind Gordon of himself and his brothers. “Tell Stalker I said not to step on your tail again. And you,” he reached out to tweak one of the kitten’s ears, “you stand right up and tell them you don’t like it. Now go on.”

The kitten’s eyes gleamed with a predatory look that Gordon knew all too well. With a growl, Sweetheart took off on all fours, hackles raised, toward the knot of its siblings romping in the field beyond.  The two progenitors watched their thriving brood for a few heartbeats, then Gordon felt the slick tentacles winding around him as they had so many times.

“When Alan coming?” Jonathan asked, low.

“Not for a while yet. It takes three Earth years to travel from Earth to Abbadon Four-Six--what my people call your home. Alan left six months ago; I don’t know how long that is here.” He leaned back into the touch, letting the feel of his mate’s smooth skin push away the ache of missing his little brother. He glanced up at Jonathan, watching as colors danced across the wide almond-shaped eyes. “You’re ready, aren’t you?”

“Jonathan always ready,” the alien huffed. “Wait for Gordon.”

Gordon turned in his lover’s embrace and slipped his hands around the back of the elegant neck, fingers twining in the silky platinum mane that fell over the broad shoulders. “Thank you for waiting. I know it’s not easy.” He glanced down at the powerful breeding muscle jutting between Jonathan’s legs, then raised his eyes to the space-black pools. He moved one hand to the zipper of the suit and shrugged out of the worn material, then bent to take the dripping head into his mouth. Jonathan shivered, skin flickering with a squall of reds and oranges, a moan escaping the fanged mouth. Gordon released his lover and replaced his mouth with gentle hands, stroking the sensitive nubs and fins until Jonathan’s legs threatened to give way and send them both tumbling to the ground. “I’m ready,  _ beloved _ .”

Jonathan swept Gordon into his tentacled embrace and retreated with him into the house. “Gordon,” he purred, repeating the first word he had ever said to his mate. “Gordon,  _ mine _ .”

“Yours,” Gordon gasped, as his mate slipped a thick tentacle into him, preparing him to accept the pulsating breeding organ. “Always yours.”

  
Hours later, Gordon awoke from the haze of the drug Jonathan fed him to dull pain and enhance pleasure--both physical and mental--and found his mate curled against his back, lilac slime dripping from both of them and pooling on the soft grass mat Jonathan had woven as a makeshift marriage bed. Gordon slid from his lover’s embrace and went to splash water on himself, filling a small bucket from the condenser unit hung on the wall. Automatically, his hand went to his abdomen, seeking out the three or four eggs that would invariably have been deposited, but to his surprise, his belly was flat. Gordon whirled to survey the sleeping creature, wondering what had happened.

“Jonathan,” he whispered, dropping the bucket and going back to his mate. “Jonathan, wake up. I need to talk to you.”

The alien growled at being awoken from its restorative sleep, but the eyes fluttered open, revealing tranquil turquoise irises. “Gordon should sleep, not talk.”

“I will, I promise, but--look.”  He pointed to the concave surface of his abdomen. “Where’s the brood? Did something go wrong?”  He took Jonathan’s face into his hands, feeling tears prick his eyes. “Can’t--can’t you do that anymore?”

Jonathan smiled. “No sad, beloved. Could tell you not right yet. Might lose brood.”  He tipped his forehead against Gordon’s. “Might lose  _ Gordon _ .” He rolled his massive shoulders in an imitation of Gordon’s shrug. “Decided. Just for...fun. Just feel good.”

Gordon’s jaw dropped a fraction. “Pleasure,” he babbled, mind racing. “Not procreation. Not for breeding, just for--love?”

“Yes. Gordon asked just for love, sometimes.” The face, with its high cheekbones and brilliant eyes, clouded like the sky outside. “Beloved not like?”

Jonathan’s eyes were beginning to slide into the indigo of confusion, but Gordon stopped him with a hand on the wide, pale chest. “No--I mean, _ yes, _ yes, I  _ do _ like. I just--I know you were holding back some, but you’ve always given me at least three or four,” Gordon continued. “You scared me. I thought maybe…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

“That maybe Jonathan die?” The alien huffed a sigh. “That maybe Jonathan wear out, body no good?”

“Something like that.” Gordon buried his face in his lover’s mane. “Please tell me that’s not what’s happening, that you’re not just trying to spare my feelings.”

Jonathan smiled. “No. Jonathan’s-- _ my _ \--kind live long time, many, many broods.” He sifted the red strands on Gordon’s neck through his clawed fingers. “No sad, beloved.  When Jonathan in box, Jonathan weak.” The alien’s features twisted into a mask of disgust. “Needed to be stronger. No...could stop,” he mused, clearly grasping for words.

“You couldn’t hold back your instincts,” Gordon supplied. “Your body told you that you had to do something, and you couldn’t stop.”

“Yes.  _ Instinct _ . Words good.”

Gordon raised his head and sat back on his heels. “Hold that thought. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Jonathan cocked an eyebrow. “Ask.”

“Where did you learn English? Human talk,” Gordon clarified, when Jonathan’s brows drew together.

“Talk from humans,” Jonathan answered.

“I know, hon, but--were there humans here before Gordon and Alan?”

Jonathan shook his head violently. “Learned talk by hearing. In box. Humans talk, talk, talk to Jonathan.” His ears clamped down against his head, and he clapped his hands over them. “No quiet!” He shook his head again. “Sleep. Quiet. Wake up Jonathan! Hit box. Wake up!”

Gordon hurried to put his arms around his lover. “Shhh, shh. They were mean, I know. They woke you up when all you wanted was sleep.”

“Sleep...forget. Forget lonely. Forget sad. Forget home.” The alien was weeping, huge lilac drops rolling down its face from its nearly colorless eyes. “Want to...sleep and never wake again.”

“I’m sorry.” Gordon held the sobbing creature, stroking the platinum head. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan.”

“No sad,” his lover countered, sniffling. “Then...Gordon.”  He raised his wet face, and Gordon wiped away the viscous tracks. “Saw Gordon.  _ Wanted _ Gordon.”

The human blushed. “I remember.”

“Want Gordon  _ now _ ,” Jonathan purred, his tentacles stirring to life around them. “Feel  _ good _ .”

Despite the very real danger to himself, desire flooded the alien’s human lover, and Gordon lay back to let himself be caressed into mind-shattering ecstasy. “Just be gentle,” he cautioned, seconds before the drug-tipped appendage slipped into his mouth.

The last thing he was coherent of was Jonathan’s deep-chested laugh as he tightened his grip on his human.


End file.
